The Same New Story
by JustAGirl24
Summary: Then the old story became a new story, and it all happened without him even realizing it. N/C down the road, not sure when.
1. Chapter 1

"She's not worth it, you know," Cassie told him casually, not really looking at him as she sat down on the steps next to him. Nick thought about ignoring her, but then thought better of it-after all, he knew from past experience that she really wasn't going anywhere (a fact which rarely irritated him, because she was completely unlike some people who never seemed to stick around, really, and he wasn't naming any names, but pretty much everyone else who'd ever been important to him had he ever wanted to delve that deeply into the matter).

Sometimes he thought he must be one hell of a piece of work to only have one person stick with him. And sometimes he wondered if he could ever break out of the cycle he was in, or if he was just so screwed up-if _they_ were just so screwed up-that they'd just keep going around and around and around the same way forever.

"I really hate it when you get all maudlin," Cassie continued conversationally when he failed to reply. "That's supposed to be my schtick, you know, with the teenage angst and all. You're supposed to be _way_ over yourself by now." Nick couldn't help but chuckle as he looked over at her, nudging her shoulder with his own.

"You shouldn't have interrupted me. I was about to write some really awful poetry, you know." They smiled at each other for a moment until his faded, and he sighed and looked down at the ground again. Cassie waited expectantly for him to continue, and he chuffed out a self-deprecating laugh. Why was it that, when it came to relationships, he always got mopey like a kid and Cassie pulled him up by his bootstraps like she was the adult? "How do you know it's not just me that's not worth it?" he asked softly, fully sharing his biggest insecurity. He glanced over at her, noticing the thoughtful expression on her face. She picked up his hand, holding it between hers, and answered.

"Think I'd waste my time with someone who wasn't?" Her eyes met his, and this time his smile didn't fade quite so fast.

* * *

It was the same old story, really, just a different day. Maybe he was a sucker, maybe he was just stupid-either way, whenever Kira beckoned, he came running, and Cassie usually got relegated to the shadows. But then the old story became a new story, and it all happened without him even realizing it.

* * *

Kira was his first everything-first kiss, first base, first love, first sex-but she was also his first _everything_, and he didn't know how to let her go, even after he realized he wanted to. Because, in the grand scheme of it all, Kira had lied to him, had used him, had maybe loved him, had come back, to be sure, but had left as many times as she returned.

The last time she left, he sat outside on the stairs of the small brownstone building he and Cassie were renting a cracker-box apartment in and came to the conclusion that he was tired of the dysfunctionality, the simultaneous apprehension and misery of wondering if/when she'd be back, tired of the knowing, deep down, that he was really just wasting his time with her. And wondering if, really, that's all he was good for-someone to waste time with. And as he confessed this fear to Cassie and she held his hand, he realized this: They led screwed-up lives. That didn't mean they had to be screwed up themselves.

* * *

Kira returned (again) on a Tuesday by her usual methods-a note left in his mailbox to come meet her at some seedy motel near wherever he and Cassie were staying, where undoubtedly: 1) She would cry and apologize for her past misdeeds, promising to change; 2) He would forgive her; 3) They would have sex (because he always felt so cold and empty inside afterward that it couldn't be making love anymore, could it?); 4) He would lay awake while she slept, feeling guilty for leaving Cassie alone (again); 5) They would return to whatever place Nick and Cassie were staying at; and 6) Cassie would become unbearably quiet for the two or three weeks it took for Kira to leave them (just him, really) again.

But that was the same old story.

* * *

Cassie had been the one to grab the mail (they had to clear out the junk, after all), chattering excitedly to Nick about some concert or other that she wanted to go to, when all of a sudden she stopped. He turned around to find her staring at the pink envelope now on top of the pile, his name written on it in the large, distinctive handwriting that both of them had come to recognize long ago. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then Cassie wordlessly handed the envelope to him, not making eye contact, and muttered something about being tired, leaving the room.

He sat down heavily at the table, slowly opening the envelope and pulling out the white square of paper within. _Royal Inn. 5:30. Room 3B._ On autopilot (because when he got a note from Kira, he went to her, had always gone to her, would always go to her), he checked his watch and saw it was 4:30 already, so he headed to the bathroom to comb his hair, splash some water on his face, check out his reflection in the mirror and silently ask himself what the hell he was doing (again). But Cassie opened her bedroom door as he passed, surprising him and her, and he stared at her for a long moment, taking in her dejected posture, how she still wouldn't make eye contact with him, and a little piece of his mind started niggling at him-_she doesn't want you to go. Has she ever really seemed okay when you've left, though?_ He (mostly, momentarily) ignored it enough to walk toward the door, halting when he heard her say quietly, "When are you going to stop hurting yourself?"

His only answer was to walk out the door, down the stairs, away from Cassie, those last words echoing in his head.

* * *

He arrived at the Royal Inn, at 5:22, standing hesitantly in front of Room 3B, his fist hovering over the door. The motel was (as usual) grungy, the few people walking through the parking lot were (as usual) unsavory, and he was (unusuallly enough) filled with trepidation. Why did this feel so wrong (moreso than usual)? He couldn't get Cassie's words out of his head. He _was _hurting himself doing this. But he felt compelled to be here at the same time. He was torn and conflicted and unhappy, really. He remembered his realization from the last time: He led a screwed-up life. He didn't have to be screwed up himself. And he was the only one who could break this cycle. He could, couldn't he? He was worth having a better life, wasn't he?

Yeah. Cassie wouldn't waste her time with someone who wasn't. He smiled up at the sky, turned around, and left.

* * *

That was how the new story began.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, Part 2 is in the works. Might take a couple weeks though. :(


	2. Chapter 2

She always thought the _not Watching_ was better than the _Watching_ in this particular case, so she never really questioned why exactly she never saw Kira's return(s) in her myriad visions. That way, she could always pretend that each time Kira left was the last time she'd ever have to see her. Maybe she'd get tired of Nick for good, or maybe she'd get hit by a bus, or maybe (and this was her favorite wish) Nick would finally stop _going _to her and realize that he was too good for that colossal bitch.

Cassie couldn't see everything, and she was just as likely to have a vision about some catastrophe as she was to have one about coming home to find Nick clipping his toenails. And as she sat on her bed kicking her feet morosely, she pondered that a vision of toenail clipping was about as stupid as it got. Her mind wandered to which motel Nick was headed to, whether he was there yet, and how she was going to put up with Kira's syrupy sweet facade for the next few weeks.

So she really wasn't expecting the vision of Nick standing in front of a dirty white motel room door, fist poised to knock. A bright white flash brought her a vision of Nick and Kira on the motel bed, breath coming hard and fast, sweat glistening on their bodies. Cassie groped for the markers and black sketchbook she always kept nearby, blindly drawing the scenes in her head, when the vision of Nick standing ready to knock flashed in her head again, followed by another bright white flash and a vision that was enough to make her drop her sketching supplies in shock. One more flash of Nick in front of that door, and just as suddenly as it came on, the vision was gone and she was staring at the cap of her marker as it rolled underneath her bed.

She _really_ wasn't expecting that one.

* * *

Cassie almost despised the cliche of falling in love with Nick, her protector, her savior, at the age of 13 and never really getting over it. Here she was, 19 (going on 90 she felt like most days), and she was still as infatuated with him as the day she met him. It was a fine line she walked, really, with not letting her feelings get in the way. She disliked Kira for the obvious reason, but she hated her for the way she used and hurt Nick. And she knew, deep down, that should the day come where she got over these infantile feelings for Nick, she would still love him, unwaveringly, until the day she died.

After all, there was love, and then there was _love_.

* * *

She looked at the five pictures laid out before her and could finally figure out why she'd had her vision change so many times: Nick had hesitated at that door and made up his mind to go in, but just as quickly doubted that decision; and then he decided to come home, but changed his mind on that too.

What she was left with was a picture of Nick, torn by insecurities, standing in front of a grungy white door. She felt like there was some sort of poetic meaning there, if only she looked harder, but she was too tired to figure it out. She was still hung up on That Picture.

* * *

An hour later, she was sitting on her bed, still trying to figure out what That Picture meant (if anything). There was a simultaneous youth and age about her that was hard to define, and she knew so many things that she shouldn't, so many things she was and has been too young to know, things that no one should ever have to know. So she _knew_ what it meant, but only academically, and she didn't know what to think about it.

Because That Picture was poorly drawn (as usual), and portrayed her vision in only the most rudimentary fashion, but still got the general point across. It didn't convey the sweat running down Nick's spine, the way her lips were parted, or the intensity of his gaze, but that was burned into her memory forever now.

She wondered what the future would hold, which of the two futures (if either) would come true, and continued her pondering that while toenail clipping might be as stupid as it got, it beat the hell out of knowing what _could_ happen but never really knowing what _would_.

She stacked the five pictures together and folded them neatly in half, tucking them under her pillow to think about later. Nick would be walking through the front door in less than a minute, and she wanted to be there waiting.

* * *

Author's Note: Still working out the kinks. Hope you guys enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: In re-reading Chapter 2, I don't know if one of the lines came across the way I meant for it to. For anyone who cares, here's the explanation: "After all, there was love, and then there was _love_." The best explanation I can give is an example. My best friend is a guy who I have never been in love with. For some reason, when we first met we just _clicked_, but it was never romantic. I can go months without seeing him, and it's like we just saw each other yesterday. I love him very deeply, and it's always easy to talk or share problems, and that's how I view the relationship of Nick and Cassie. I totally got the crush vibe coming off Cassie, but I think that underneath that, she and Nick really love each other, a love that will remain strong even if nothing romantic ever happens between them, because they just _click_. (Of course, in this particular instance, I want to see them get together, but I hope you get the gist.)

I think I'll be switching viewpoints between Nick and Cassie each chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it. Of course, I always love reviews and am very happy to receive constructive criticism. (Please, it helps me be a better writer!) Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, I appreciate the encouragement and the compliments.

Don't expect really frequent updates, but I can promise I'll finish the story at the very least. :)

* * *

It was a weird feeling, he decided. Liberating. Like jumping from a swing and that split second of feeling like you're flying. He walked down the sidewalk aimlessly, just walking where his feet led. He couldn't believe he'd finally broken the cycle, that he was done with Kira. He was fully happy for the first time in a long time, he realized. The knowing that Kira would come back and that he would let her had been a burden on him for six years now, and now he felt light on his feet, a spring in his step. He thought of Cassie as he walked, how she had said the perfect thing at the perfect time to help him shake this habit, and knew he'd never forget it.

He wanted to celebrate, wanted to go out tonight and just be happy, wanted Cassie to be happy too. His feet were taking him home, taking him back to Cassie.

* * *

Nick had spent the past six years bowing to everyone's whims but never having any of his own. Now, most of the time, they were Cassie's whims, and he was game to give whatever it was a try, whether it was trying out the new sushi place, exploring the downtown market, or trying on a thousand different shirts "just for fun." With Kira, it was really just one whim-take me back-but that was enough.

Tonight, he'd be (hopefully) surprising Cassie with a whim of his own.

* * *

Nick walked up the stairs of the brownstone building, plastic sack rustling in his hand, and paused in front of the door. He hoped Cassie wouldn't be too upset with him for leaving in the first place, but what if she was? At least he was coming home alone, right? Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to find Cassie just inside, smiling serenely. He smiled back, just taking her in and glad to know she was waiting for him, would always be there for him, the one person he could trust to never leave. He watched her smile grown until it was almost blinding, and then she flung herself at him, arms wrapped around his waist and face pressed to his chest. He dropped the sack in his hand and put his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers, and just stood there. It was good to be home.

* * *

One of Nick's most treasured memories was rocking in a chair with his mother. He was young, maybe three or four, and as she'd cradled him in her arms and hummed a little lullaby as he blinked drowsily, he'd felt so secure and loved. Security ended when he was six and Division killed his mother and sent him and his father on the run. Love ended when Carver killed his father, and he had spent 10 years of his life without it. Sure, he'd had his time with Kira, and he'd thought it was love when he was young, but he realized it was a paltry substitute for the way it felt to know that someone _really_ loved you, _really_ cared, and would _always_ have your back no matter what.

That was the connection he'd made with Cassie when he'd saved her life and she'd saved his. From now on, someone had his back.

* * *

Nick finally released Cassie, handed her the plastic sack, and told her to get ready to go out. "It's time to celebrate," he explained, and headed to his own bedroom to get ready.

* * *

Author's Note: I know this chapter is coming on the heels of Chapter 2, but don't expect it to happen very often (it's only because it's REALLY short). Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you do!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Sorry I haven't updated in so long, bad writer's block plus a lot of family stuff plus the holidays, but here's Chapter 4 and I have started on Chapter 5 as well! Please read and review, because it really makes me want to write more when I now people are actually reading this story. Thanks!

* * *

Cassie sat heavily on her bed, contemplating the bag Nick had handed her. He'd said it was time to celebrate, and she agreed; she'd never seen him look so _light_, and she knew he must be as relieved as she (secretly) was that he'd confronted the situation with Kira, but she wondered what had happened to make things change.

She slowly opened the bag, peering inside at its contents, and laughed as she drew out a hot pink dress with bits of electric blue and neon green spattered on it. Nick really did know her so well.

* * *

During a trans-continental flight, Nick had asked about Cassie's love of color. She'd looked at him a long moment, an adult staring at him from the body of a 14-year-old, and answered simply. "It brightens the dark."

Nick was the only person who could understand the depth of that statement.

* * *

Cassie left her bedroom and walked toward the living room, absurdly pleased with her new dress. It fit perfectly and fell like a layer cake down to her knees, a burst of color that matched her happiness and swung around her as she walked. Yes, Nick really did know her so well. He was leaning against the wall, flipping through a magazine, and her heart clenched at the sight of him and how…_gorgeous_ he was, wearing loose-fitting cargo pants and a black undershirt with a white button-up over it. She paused, and he looked up at her, meeting her gaze and returning her smile.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

* * *

Nick used to think that being alone was better than the alternative. He might not like it, but at least he knew exactly who he could count on. With Cassie's entrance into his life, he knew he could count on her, but… all of a sudden, seeing her in that dress with matching glossy heels, he didn't know if he could count on himself anymore.

* * *

Nick and Cassie walked the short distance to the local Indian restaurant, shared some curry, and then made their way to a club. She'd never seen Nick so carefree before, and Cassie wondered how he could have kept himself so tamped down for the past six years. Nick wondered the same thing. And when the club finally closed at 2:00 a.m., they made their way back to the brownstone building, one of Cassie's arms looped through Nick's and the other holding her shoes, laughing the whole way home.

They finally staggered up the stairs, still laughing, and in an almost predictable moment, Cassie tripped and Nick caught her. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. For a moment, he knew he would. But then he noticed the door to their apartment, open when it had been closed, and the carefree aura fell from them both.

* * *

"The course of true love never did run smooth…" Lysander, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

Nick Moved the guns he always carried now to hover in front of him as he silently pushed the door open, Cassie close behind him, eyes wide in fear. He motioned for her to stay, but she shook her head stubbornly, insisting on following him. He rolled his eyes and continued toward the sounds he could hear coming from the back of the apartment, drawers slamming and papers rustling, and then heard a distinctly feminine voice cursing unintelligibly.

Kira.

He stopped abruptly, shoulders slumping, and Moved the guns back into the waist band of his pants. She was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

When Nick was young and lifting wallets from the good citizens of New York City with his powers, he'd met Kira, Pushing on the docks of Coney Island. It had been easy, carefree, and fun, the first time he'd ever been in love. It had been easy to turn a blind eye to her vicious streak.

* * *

"Kira," he called out, almost resignedly, only to take several steps back in surprise as a veritable hurricane of force exited Cassie's bedroom, storming towards him and stabbing him in the chest, forcing him back into the couch.

"So, Nick," she spat, thrusting Cassie's drawing into his hands, throwing a strip of gold foil packets at his face, "Are you _fucking_ her? A little young for you, isn't she?" Nick could only stare at Kira in shock, mouth hanging open. Cassie stood a few feet to the side, watching the exchange silently.

"I don't really know what you mean," Nick said tiredly when he'd recovered from the shock of her fury.

"Really? And what does that look like?" she ground out venomously, pointing at the picture in his hand. Nick looked down, mouth gaping as he realized it was really what he thought it was. He shook his head silently in denial. "Condoms in your drawer, that little drawing of hers? Oh, and I think I almost forgot, she's legal now, isn't she? Always thought you were screwing around with that little girl when you couldn't have me," she finished.

Nick's head shot up at this last part, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Get out. Now," he said between clenched teeth.

Kira smiled at him coolly in triumph. "Hit a nerve, did I?" she asked smugly. "Just proves my point."

"Now," he ground out. And, still smiling victoriously, she sailed out the front door, her final call of "you know where to find me" ringing in their ears as Kira shut the door.

Neither of them moved for a minute, until Nick silently bent to pick up the condoms Kira had thrown at him and walked to his bedroom. He never looked at Cassie even once.


	5. Chapter 5

Nick spent the next few hours silently pacing his room, pausing every once in awhile to unfold the picture Kira had shoved into his hands and laughing silently, disbelievingly, each and every time. What in the world had happened tonight? He rubbed his aching eyes and glanced over at his alarm clock, the red numbers telling him the time was 6:45. Whatever had happened had happened, and he knew he would have to deal with it somehow, make this right with Cassie and let them go back to normal. Or as normal as their lives got, anyway.

Nick put on his coat, grabbed a Sharpie from his desk drawer, and scrawled "let's talk" on the back of the picture. He jimmied it under Cassie's bedroom door before turning and heading out of the building. He had one place to go, no one to see, and just a little money to spend.

* * *

Nick and Cassie had moved around a lot in the years since they'd met, and as happened with any two people stuck together, they fought. And maybe they fought more than most, because, on top of everything else, Cassie was dealing with being a teenager and Nick was dealing with—well, dealing with someone else on a constant basis, but after they'd calmed down and exchanged peace offerings and apologized with sheepish grins, everything would be alright again. After all, that's what (friends? family? whatever) were for.

* * *

Nick walked back to their brownstone building with a grocery sack in his arms and a ball of dread sitting heavily in his stomach, which only seemed to get bigger with every step closer he got to home. He walked up the stairs, hoping Cassie hadn't woken up yet, and was relieved when he opened the door to find the apartment still and quiet. He removed the cinnamon rolls and box of coffee he'd purchased from the little bakery around the corner and set them on the little table in the kitchen, folding the bag carefully and putting it away, then straightening the utensils and the little aluminum containers and—

—And he was fidgeting like an idiot, he realized with a defeated sigh as he banged his head lightly against the kitchen wall. He really had no idea how to go about this. And it sounded ridiculous even in his head. _Cassie drew a picture of us having sex. _ It would probably sound even worse if he said it out loud, but Nick had seen enough movies to know that you never split off from the group in a creepy abandoned house, and you never said things like that aloud because _then_ the person would be standing right behind you, and—

At the sound of a throat being cleared behind him, Nick stood straight up and turned around, taking in the sight of Cassie in an oversized t-shirt, messy hair, and holding his note/her picture in her hand, still folded up, and some other papers as well. Cautiously, not saying a word, they eyed each other until Nick gestured towards a cinnamon roll and Cassie sat down in front of it, taking a large bite and humming with pleasure. Nick poured them both coffee and set in on his own cinnamon roll. And as he devoured it, he was practically crawling out of his own skin at the near-normalcy of it all. _Fuck this_, he thought, putting his roll back down and taking a closer look at Cassie. She had her eyes shut tight as she chewed on her breakfast, as if it were the best cinnamon roll to ever grace the planet, but when he paid a little bit more attention he realized she was just avoiding him as much as he was trying to avoid her.

* * *

Cassie once told him that only a Watcher could really understand that, without all the dull minutiae of everyday life, the big moments in life would never happen. It is something too big for most people to understand, the knowledge that a seemingly small thing can create a huge change. Turn left instead of right, and the car that was destined to swerve into you hits a guard rail instead. Knock on a grungy white motel room door, and it's the same old story. But what if you _don't_ knock?

* * *

The cinnamon roll has been reduced to crumbs on Cassie's plate, the coffee was cold, and she had absolutely no more excuses for ignoring him anymore. So she looked him in the eye, no emotion in her face, as if waiting for the axe to fall.

"So," she said, "let's talk." And Nick watched as she placed a drawing on the table in front of him, one with a door and a fist, poised to knock. The second one showed two people on a bed, carefully labeled "you" and "Kira." The third was similar to the first, and the fourth was the picture from the night before, burned into his brain, but now (unnecessarily) labeled "you" and "me." A fifth picture was laid in front of him, the same as the first, and confusion was clearly written across his face, so she explained.

"Here," she said calmly, pointing at the first picture, "you knocked. This is what happened," she pointed at the second. Then she pointed at the third. "You didn't knock, and you came home, and… this," she gestured towards the fourth drawing. "But then you decided not to come home," she told him, pointing at the fifth picture, "and… here we are."

Nick rubbed his hands over his face, trying to give himself some time to think about what she'd just told him, then dropped them to his lap and looked her in the eye. "Here we are," he said, "but where is here?"

* * *

Author's Note: Blah blah blah, sorry about the long wait, I'll spare you the excuses. If you enjoyed, please read and review, even if it's just a few words! Thanks!


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